#sydlar

“I-I know…” He said meekly as he pulled at the strings of his hoodie. 

Kylar grew up reading fanfiction—it was inevitable as someone who always grew deeply immersed in all the shows and games he enjoyed. After he became infatuated with you, he made good use of the word replacer extension to replace characters names with yours into fanfictions. Yes…of course he used x reader fics for this. He always filtered out angst, and always included smut and fluff. Duh!

Naturally, he’s well versed with the annual kinktober lists.

“You asked me…you asked me what I wanted for my birthday yesterday.” Kylar knew that you were strapped for cash, he wouldn’t dare ask you to buy him something. The next big thing was an activity. “So I just thought that—” he lowers his head, “that this could be your gift to me. You can choose the prompts and w-we’ll do it.”

Really? You had thought. But you ask me for sex every day anyway, so what’s the difference? 

“You want a gift every day of your birthday month, then?” You wondered if he realized how…absurd that sounded. But as someone who indulged him either way, it only amused you. 

Kylar did realize how it sounded but was past the point of feeling shame. He nodded.

“Alright. Shouldn’t the birthday boy be the one to choose the prompts, though?”

He smiled, feeling a sense of nostalgia over being called that. It’s been a long, long time since he has had anyone to celebrate his birthday with. “I want you to enjoy it too. And I’m fine with whatever…a–as long as it’s with you.”

Okay, well, that turned you to mush inside. The urge to laugh scattering away like dandelion fuzz after being blown on. He said it so sweetly that it made your knees weak.

You intended to get through the whole list, but you didn’t get very far. In fact, on the third day’s options, your head blanked. He said he’s fine with whatever? You doubted that. 

“For day three, what about a threesome?”

Kylar stilled in an instant. He of course wanted to say no immediately, but first, he had to find out who the hell you wanted a threesome with! Was he not good enough for you? Who were you lusting after? He had to know! “A t-t-threesome?! With who?!”

“Hm. Maybe Sydney?” It was the first name that popped to mind. “And of course, the focus would be on you.”

He stared at you, mouth opening and closing, before running away.

After that, he disappeared and you got really worried. You already had a thousand sincere words of reassurance pledging your loyalty and apologies ready to say as you held him in your arms and kissed him all over. It’s weird not being clung onto after having him trail after you 24/7.

Kylar spent a long time calming himself down, trying not to hurt himself or others. Truthfully, he has been making good progress on keeping his urges in check. Still, his mind has a bad habit of overthinking. Am I not good enough? What does Sydney have that I don’t? 

It was only when the sun started to set that he realized you had elaborated on your proposal. He had been so focused on the fact you seemed to want a threesome with Sydney that he forgot you had said the focus would be on him—on Kylar.

Oh. Well. That’s…

So then, he would be sandwiched between you and Sydney. You wouldn’t be kissing Sydney and you wouldn’t be fucking Sydney, right?

You and Sydney would both be paying attention to him. It’ll be part of his birthday celebration, after all.

For a reason he had long since been repressing, a jolt of arousal coursed through him at the imagery that flashed in his head. 

Once upon a time, Sydney had been both his closest friend and his first crush.

There had been multiple occasions—prior to him becoming obsessed with you—where he stroked himself and came to the thought of Sydney. It was completely contradictory to the hatred he claimed to hold for him. But he tried to justify it by saying it was a way of getting back at him. Aren’t you the innocent sweet religious boy in town? You think you’re better than me? I revolt you? Well I’m over here defiling you with my thoughts and you can’t do a thing about it.

On rarer occasions, he would imagine the sweetness that Sydney could bring him. This would happen after particularly hard days where he didn’t have the energy to muster up any hatred, and would instead comfort himself by thinking about an alternate reality where Sydney didn’t abandon him. He’d think about Sydney’s hands fluttering all over his body with the gentleness of a soft breeze instead of being clasped in prayer, and about Sydney kissing his forehead instead of the cross on his necklace.

Being in bed with Sydney would be a long-lost dream come true.

And how lovely would it be to have the only bearers of his lust pour endless affection onto him until he’s twitching from the mind-numbing onslaught of two different touches?

The next thing he had said to you when he saw you was: “Yes. I-I want to. With um…the thing you said—chose, the prompt you chose.”

Your apologies died down your throat, and you went out to find Sydney. Kylar stayed back because he feared rejection would slap him in the face.

Sydney was surprisingly easy to talk to about the matter, which wasn’t what you expected from someone who was clearly abstinent from all sexual matters. 

He had perked up right at the mention of Kylar wanting something to do with him again, reached up to fiddle with the cross on his necklace, and cleared his throat before asking, “really? Kylar…he wants me to celebrate his birthday with him?”

The only interactions he has had with Kylar these past few years included gently chiding him for returning a book late or drawing on the margins, and the occasional awkward hi when unexpectedly bumping into each other in town.

Another thought hit Sydney: “Wait, but his birthday isn’t even on the third.”

Of course, you had no intention of taking advantage of Sydney. You told him the plans for the celebration so he’d know what he’d be getting into if he were to accept. By the end of your explanation, he was dead silent and didn’t dare look you in the eye. 

Despite still being a virgin—a religious one, at that—Sydney is by no means a sweet innocent lamb when it comes to knowledge about sex anymore. His curiosities about it had piqued when he started taking shifts at the adult shop, and one day he finally picked up some books at the local library that threw him into an enticing world of fictional romance and erotica. 

He was actually a bit saddened he had no one to experience this with. Following graduation, he never had anyone to hang out with since he didn’t foster many friendships at school, much less now. You’re his friend, but after you started dating Kylar, he barely saw you anymore.

You were ready to smile and say, it’s okay, I understand this is a sudden request that you’re not comfortable with. But his answer had left you standing there with your jaw wide open!

“I wouldn’t be…opposed.” The tips of his ears were burning up. He pushed up his glasses in an attempt to hide his face. “Can I have some more time to think about it?”

“Yeah.” Your words came out strained, had you heard him right? “Take all the time you need.”

In the end, Sydney agreed, but he did have one condition: this couldn’t be done in Kylar’s mansion for the simple reason of the temple forbidding him from entering it at all costs. You found yourself at a loss, your room at the orphanage wasn’t an option either—how will three people comfortably fit on a twin sized mattress?

After bringing this concern up to Sydney, he gave it some thought and then proposed that you guys could come over to his place instead since luckily, Sirris was going to be out of town on the first week of the month. 

— — —

It’s the third day of the month now. Your wrists ache from the binds that held them yesterday—the prompt you had chosen was kidnapping. Coming untouched was cool and all, but Kylar did it way too often! So where’s the fun in that?

Plus, your boyfriend already had all the materials needed for a kidnapping scenario…for completely obvious and concerning reasons that make your skin crawl if you think about it too deeply.

“You’re sure he said yes?” Kylar asks as he walks alongside you past the fence of Sydney’s front yard, hand tightly holding yours. You can feel him shaking with nerves.

“When have I ever lied to you?” 

“T-That one time you told me the guy outside the arcade wasn’t flirting with you.”

“You mean the one who complimented my pants and asked where I got them from? That guy?”

He nods.

“…Kylar,” you bite back the urge to say he’s being completely childish and unreasonable—how did a stranger asking where you got an article of clothing from give him the impression you were being flirted with?! You really don’t feel like riling him up, though, so you concede. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I promise I’m not lying to you when I say that Sydney agreed, though. And if anything happens, I’m here by your side, alright?”

As the two of you approach the front door, Kylar lets go of your hand and instead wraps his arms around you from behind. His voice is muffled against your clothes. “Y-You can’t kiss him…or let him kiss you.”

“I know.” You reply, taking a deep breath before continuing with a list. “I can’t kiss him, hold his hand, or undress him, and naturally, I can’t let him do any of those things to me, either.”

He remains silent—he’s waiting for you to say the most important one.

“Sydney and I can’t fuck.”

A pleased hum comes from behind you, followed by a now clear (yet quiet), “I knew you’d remember. Y-You’re amazing.”

After many more excruciating minutes of being questioned and having to reassure him, the two of you finally ring the doorbell and are greeted by a very flustered Sydney who invites the two of you inside.

It’s always awkward having to witness these things and stand to the side. No matter how much you want to excuse yourself to another room, though, Kylar has a death grip on your arm. Trying to move would be a dangerous choice.

“I missed you.” Sydney’s confession is spoken through tears more beautiful than the stained glass windows at the temple. It’s said quietly—like it has grown used to being carried away by the wind and going unheard throughout the years. 

Naturally, Kylar missed him very much too, but the words are lodged in his throat. He blinks at Sydney and then ducks his head down and nods, spilling a less intimate response by omitting the important part. “Me…Me too. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

Guilt tugs at Sydney. Not making an effort to rekindle a friendship that he abandoned isn’t necessarily a sin, but…somehow, it feels even worse than one. 

Silence follows, then random conversations. To the two long-lost friends, it feels short since their minds are overactive. To you? It feels like an hour of eventual small talk until the three of you finally head upstairs to Sydney’s room where a cross hangs over a very neat, large bed. 

 A threesome in front of a cross. Am I seeing the pearly gates? You tear your gaze away. Whatever. I’ve done worse—which isn’t my fault, but Bailey’s. 

“You’ve got a whole library in here.” You wonder how Sydney even had time to read what he wanted back then given how busy he was with homework and his temple duties.

“If you ever want to borrow a book, let me know. Some of them have been collecting dust for a while.” He then turns to Kylar, a smile on his face. “Now if you want to borrow one, you’re going to have to convince me that you’ve gotten rid of your habit of doodling in books.”

“I-I have.”

You snort. “Have not.”

Amused, Sydney sighs and shakes his head. Just as the awkwardness is leaving his bones, his gaze lands on his bedside table and he tenses up.

“I put some glasses of water on the bedside table in case anyone gets thirsty and…brought some…” Momentarily losing his composure, he takes a deep breath before continuing, “some lube from the shop. Forgive me, I, I don’t know how any of this goes.”

His glasses are also folded and discarded on the other bedside table. Assuming this would require a lot of movement, he chose to wear contacts for the time being.

Sydney feels out of place in his own room due to the building tension of what’s about to unfold. Stuck with two shy people, you’re the one who has to make the first move to push things forward—and this comes with the simple act of getting settled on the bed and undressing. 

Kylar, ever so infatuated with you, immediately follows after you like a puppy. He chooses the middle of the bed, which is perfect, all things considered.

There’s something beautiful about the way that Kylar looks at you, Sydney thinks. Dull eyes transform to ones that seem to reflect all the brightness in the world as soon as they shift towards you, it’s so intimate that he feels like he’s intruding on a private moment. 

As clothes continue to shed until only undergarments remain, he figures that it wouldn’t be fair to be the only one standing and completely dressed. The mattress dips a bit underneath his weight, his hands lift to fiddle with his necklace but he decides against taking it off.

A halo and set of wings aren’t required for Sydney to look like an angel; if a statue of him was crafted, everyone would mistake him for one either way. Without being aware of the tantalizing pace he sets, he unbuttons his shirt. It’s only when he looks up that he realizes how closely two pairs of eyes are drifting all across his torso. His heart flutters, and he finds that to his surprise, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable, just very, very shy. 

His hands don’t make it down to his pants, being shirtless is already a huge step for him.

Though in awe of his beauty, Kylar finds himself feeling jealous when he glances at you and sees that your eyes are on Sydney. It’s fine if he lusts after you and Sydney, but under no circumstances is his beloved allowed to lust over someone other than him! And naturally, if Sydney attempts to do anything with you, he’ll be the one to cut their friendship this time!

“Kiss.” Kylar murmurs to you. “K-Kiss me.”

His lips are chastely pecked once then twice before the kiss deepens and he sighs dreamily into it, reassurance surging through his chest like tides. 

“Mmph,” static fills his head at the feel of your tongue on his. If only he knew how to manufacture drugs, maybe then he could capture the feeling of your kiss in a pill and take it whenever he misses you. You part from him, and he greedily ghosts along the corner of your lips, your jawline, and then down the side of your neck.

You wince when he suddenly sinks his teeth onto a bite mark he left yesterday. “Not too rough…”

He gives the place a kitten lick as an apology, his hair ticking your jaw all the while. A breathless laugh—Kylar’s favorite—is drawn from you. Helplessly in love, Kylar chases after you to close the gap between your lips and his once more. He nearly topples you down in the process as if he wants to completely merge with you right then and there.

Sydney finds that he’s the one staring now. His dick slowly starts stiffening beneath his pants, aroused by not only the sight of spit being swapped but also the heavy panting and sweet noises that accompany it. Does it really feel that good?

“Okay, okay—” You gasp for breath and let out another tiny laugh, lips feeling tingly from all the love they’ve gotten. The heel of your palm is gently pressed against Kylar’s forehead to keep him from continuing his pursuit. You tip your head towards Sydney’s direction, he’s not the type to ask for anything so you have to throw Kylar his way.

Kylar understands at once, feeling his vision spin as he makes his way over to Sydney. The only reason he’s this bold is because you’re here with him; whatever reassurance he needs, all he has to do is look over at you.

Sydney’s much taller than him when they stand, and this is also the case even as they both sit back on their knees. Kylar is still for a very long time before he places his hands on Sydney’s shoulders and weakly tugs him down, planting an abrupt kiss on his lips.

Kylar used to be very, very bad at kissing. He was clumsy like a fawn trying to use its legs for the first time, and sometimes he couldn’t measure his own strength when he bit down on your bottom lip.

After a lot of practice with you, he has been improving, so he thought he wouldn’t be this awkward anymore.

“S-Sorry,” Kylar’s quick to apologize, eyes squeezing shut as he berates himself in his mind. He knows how to kiss! But he has only ever kissed you! Kissing someone else is…a new experience and it momentarily reverts him back to a novice.

“It’s okay,” Sydney whispers, his own nerves melting at the endearing mistake. His smile reaches his eyes. “Try again?”

Kylar nods and looks back at you, desperation clear in his eyes. Not needing to be verbally asked, you go behind him, arms wrapping around his waist as you press your lips across the back of his shoulders, moving along with them as he leans in and kisses Sydney again.

He’s much gentler this time, and he slowly draws him into something deeper. Sydney’s heart hammers beneath his ribcage and his mind buzzes with excitement, eager to get more of the feeling. It’s not quite like how his books described—his entire world isn’t slowing down, but he still feels a rush of bliss circulating through his bloodstream. 

As expected from someone who’s talented in every task they pick up, Sydney turns out to be a naturally good kisser; he easily picks up the motions. His hands raise to tenderly cup Kylar’s face, his own heating up so strongly he almost feels like he has a fever.

And so, it goes like this for a while: Kylar alternates between kissing you and Sydney, looking back over his shoulder at you when he wants you (which is often), and then turning back forward to kiss Sydney. Vocal as always, Kylar’s whimpering the entire time.

At some point, in between heavy breaths, Kylar pulls away from Sydney to murmur a soft, “my love” to you, his hands settling atop yours and guiding them down to his boxers. “It’s too tight…”

It’s too tight—as if he can’t use his own hands to free himself. He’s too dependent on you, really. 

“Already getting so riled up after just kissing?” 

Though your question isn’t aimed at Sydney, he still finds his face increasing even more in temperature, knowing that he himself started getting hard watching the two of you kiss. 

“I-I can’t help it.” Kylar sulks a bit and then leans forward, this time letting his lips leave a wake of fire against Sydney’s neck. He catches the scent of clean laundry that clings onto his skin, as well as a faint metallic smell from his cross necklace.

Tilting his head to the side, Sydney’s half-lidded eyes meet yours—it’s an expression you’ve never seen on him before and you want to engrave it into your mind.

Maybe in this aspect, you’re no better than your boyfriend. There’s something exhilarating about an innocent and untouched person being corrupted.

Sydney. The same guy who’d miss every coquettish smile others cast his way. The same guy who hadn’t understood any of your dirty and immature jokes back then and would instead tilt his head to the side with a puzzled look. This very same Sydney is now delving into worldly pleasures, and though you can’t touch him, you’ll be witnessing it.

You shake the thoughts out of your head and get back to helping Kylar by tugging down his boxers. The second he’s free and feels your bare skin on his most sensitive area, he immediately bites down hard on Sydney. The sting sends a thrill down the latter's spine, he looks bewildered as he backs away with a hiss of pain, and no—he absolutely does not want to entertain the thought that he might possibly find the prospect of being hurt arousing.

“Want to do the honors?”

“Huh—what? Honors? What honors?” Blood rushing to the wrong head, Sydney simply can’t register things quickly anymore. He hasn’t been this flustered in a while, everything’s all scrambled and he can’t make sense of it.

It isn’t until he looks down from bashfulness and is met with an erotic sight that he finally realizes what you’re talking about. He almost wants to shield his eyes. Back at the temple when he tries the vigil, he always closes his eyes when the other initiates undress. He can’t really do this here, though.

“I…” He can do this. Does he know how? No, but he can do anything he sets his mind to. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, he gathers up some courage and nods, hand turning clammy as he wraps it around Kylar.

Sydney’s hand moves at a snail speed, palm and fingers gliding over the head of Kylar’s dick, then all the way down to the base where it lingers for a while after each stroke. In between it all, he constantly glances back up at Kylar’s face to check his reactions.

It’s dirty, Kylar thinks. The hand getting him off is being tainted; it’s holding his dick instead of a cherished bible; it’s running over beads of his precum instead of holy rosary beads.

He lets out a sound of frustration, unable to move his own hips and set the pace to his liking since you’re holding him in place. Sydney immediately grows nervous and stops, “does it hurt?”

Kylar only shakes his head.

“C’mon,” you encourage him, knowing your boyfriend’s preferences well. “Use your words.”

Sydney chimes in too, “I want it to feel…um…good for you. I don’t really know what I’m doing, so…”

“F-Faster,” Kylar begs shakily. “Rougher.”

Something indecipherable wells up Sydney’s eyes. He nods and gets to work with the new instructions, tightening his hold on Kylar and working his hand up and down until it looks like a blur. 

With just ten fast and rough strokes from Sydney’s hand, Kylar finishes, hot streaks of cum landing on his stomach.

“Does it usually happen this fast?” Sydney asks out of good-natured curiosity—from the limited times he has masturbated, he has always lasted pretty long, but he thinks it’s because he didn’t have much real sexual knowledge at the time to fuel his arousal. Maybe this was normal instead and everything he read was exaggerated.

Kylar’s cheeks get hotter in an instant and he squeaks out, “N-No!”

“What are you lying for?” You ask after tsking and giving his hips a squeeze, earning a helpless sigh from your boyfriend who clearly wanted to save face. But there really is no use in lying; he’ll probably come again in another two minutes! What’ll he say then? You tell Sydney matter-of-factly, “Kylar just never lasts very long. You know, I tried using a cock ring on him once and even then—”

“My love!”  

Sydney knows you’ve tried it—in fact, he has known for a couple of months now. How? Because he was the fucking cashier when you bought it! There are various questions he wants to ask, like, what in the world do you need a paddle for? A whip?! Fuzzy handcuffs?! Vibrating…vibrating devices?! Just what do you and Kylar do in bed that requires all this?! 

He doesn’t voice these curiosities.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you help Sydney out?” You ask, reaching up to pat his head and feeling him nod a little under your palm.

“I—no,” Sydney stammers, holding his hands out in front of him and shaking them, head turning to the side. “I couldn’t possibly…” 

But Kylar’s already shyly going to him and getting settled between Sydney’s thighs, his stomach against the bed. His resolve crumbles and gives way to the burning curiosity of what he’s about to experience, he doesn’t say anything else as deft fingers—not his own—start undoing his belt and pulling his zipper down.

Even his briefs are plain and simple like his attire, just white without any designs. Similarly, like the rest of him, Sydney’s dick is pretty, the kind you want to kiss all over. Nervousness floods through him like a current, he of course hasn’t been exposed to much nudity at all, so he’s oblivious to the fact he’s presenting a mouth-watering sight, instead feeling rather insecure of himself.

Kylar snaps out of his ogling and immediately glances back at you—there’s no way he wants you to see Sydney’s dick! What if you decide it’s better than his and abandon him?

Just in time, you tilt your head up and pretend to look at the ceiling with great interest. Sydney lives in a relatively nice house, though, the walls and ceiling are smooth unlike the ones in the orphanage, so there aren’t any shapes you can even try to make out. Nevertheless, Kylar buys it and dutifully returns to his task.

Feeling Kylar’s breath on his most sensitive area, Sydney finally looks down, his heartbeat louder than his voice. “Be gentle, please.”

“I-I’ll try.” Kylar feels somewhat embarrassed that he’s being so nice to Sydney. A part of him hasn’t forgiven him after the years of solitude he spent wondering what had gone wrong. Before heading here, he thought he’d be a little mean to Sydney, it would serve him right! And yet…he only feels like mush now.

Starting from the bottom, his tongue laps over the underside, cleaning up all the precum that’s dribbling down. And then, careful not to accidentally use teeth, he takes the head in.

“Oh…” The moan falls softly, just as soothing to the ear as the sound of rain thudding against a surface. Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar feeling, Sydney’s caught between wanting to push Kylar away and wanting to keep him in place. In the end, he does neither, instead covering his mouth with one hand and gripping the sheets with his other.

After today, Kylar knows he’ll no longer feel so judged whenever he bumps into any of the temple’s higher-ups. So what if they scorn him? If he’s able to muster the courage one day to tell them that he has sucked off their favorite and most hard-working initiate’s dick, it would certainly give them a fright.

He almost wishes this could’ve been done back at his place where he has cameras set up to capture both him and you tangling in bed—this way, he would have solid proof that he has touched Sydney.

“It feels…” Sydney’s words fall short; no matter how expansive his vocabulary is, there’s no way to describe the way he’s feeling right now. His willpower is very high, no matter the pain he has felt during his trials of fire at the temple, he always manages to tough it out, keep a straight face, and not let a single noise slip. Yet here he is, crumbling at pleasure.

Kylar doesn’t register the sound of something being opened or the movement going on behind him. It’s not until his legs are splayed wide and he feels two lube covered fingers circling his rim that he flinches, gagging in the process.

Sydney’s eyes snap wide open and he rushes to press against Kylar’s shoulders to try and push him away. “D-Don’t…doesn’t that hurt?” Gagging so suddenly can’t possibly feel good, he thinks to himself. If I hurt him, I won’t be able to forgive myself.

On the contrary, it’s almost like little hearts have started floating over Kylar’s head. Muffled sounds of delight are all he can let out as he starts sucking Sydney off with renewed passion, spurred on by the feeling of you prepping him for what’s to come. He tries his best not to gag again so that his body isn’t tense as you try to add another finger, but he’s so excited that his head bobs too quickly and his throat constricts again.

Desperate to ease his friend’s gag reflex, Sydney tries something else, now tugging at Kylar’s hair. He unintentionally tugs a little too harshly though and ends up even more panicked when his apology is overshadowed by Kylar’s muffled moan.

“Masochist.” You mutter, speeding up the pace of your fingers.

“W-What?” Sydney’s at a loss, momentarily forgetting the meaning of that simple term. After a second, the definition clicks, and without even expecting or meaning to, he comes.

“Wait—no!” Horrified, his voice cracks. No matter what he tries, he can’t seem to pull Kylar off. All he can do is let out apologies that are accompanied by the instinctual upward thrust of his hips. “Sorry, sorry, ahh, sorry…”

Kylar takes it all greedily, only letting a small amount drip down his chin. Screw the church, he’d rather swallow this instead of sacramental wine.

Sydney’s tremors slowly subside as he calms down from the high. To his surprise, he finds that Kylar’s mouth is open as he pants for breath. Yet, he didn’t seem to have spit anything out either, meaning…he swallowed it! Is that even healthy? Is it edible? 

“I think that’s good,” Kylar says to you, wasting no time in scrambling back to you and gesturing for you to lie down so he can get you prepped. “L-Let me help you.”

Ever since getting together with him, there’s not much that gets you embarrassed—not when he’s always loudly claiming you as his significant other all over town and drawing dirty sketches of you in public. But for some reason, his eagerness as he pulls your underwear down, spreads your legs, and dips his head down to use his mouth on you in front of someone else makes your cheeks burn.

Oftentimes, you wonder if he really is this naturally noisy or if he simply picked it up as a habit from all the porn he used to watch. Then again, he has always been upfront about getting turned on when he makes you feel good, so maybe it’s just that.

To him, pleasuring you is a necessity. He needs it more than he needs air in his lungs, the urge to breathe doesn’t register when you’re squeezing his head with your thighs and panting heavily. 

“Kylar….Kylar…right there.”

Hearing his name fall from your lips feels nothing short of heavenly. All his life, it’s been said with disgust or not used at all. Somewhere along the line, he had gotten used to his name being replaced with words like freak and creep. Now that you’re in his life, though, his name has only ever been said breathlessly or with love pouring through both syllables. It’s more calming than the sound of birds chirping on a sun-lit day. 

Sydney watches everything: the arch of your back, the occasional twitches of your calves, the rise and fall of your chest. Much to his humiliation, he starts hardening again and gets the urge to clasp his hands together and start praying to will away his arousal. 

He can’t lust over someone’s significant other! Kylar’s a different story since this is all taking place because of him, but Sydney knows he shouldn’t look at you for too long in his presence. He still remembers years ago, back at school, when he was having a conversation with you in the library and suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck stand like he was in danger, only to look around and spot Kylar hiding behind a bookcase, seething with jealousy and glaring daggers at him.

Valuing his life, he forces himself to tear his gaze away the minute you start grinding against Kylar’s face.

After months of practice, Kylar’s confident in his skills with getting you off. His hips oh so (not) subtly rut against the bed as he coaxes you through your orgasm, cherishing your taste before he pulls away.

Frantically, he kisses your inner thighs before spreading them more so he can move up and leave a flurry of kisses up your stomach, chest, neck, until he eventually reaches your lips.

“Did I—did I do good?” He asks in between pecks.

“Mhm, good boy.” 

Before you can even register the way he lowers a hand down to guide himself, he’s already pushing himself inside you, drawing out a moan from the two of you.

Bad boy! I take it back! 

It takes everything in you to scold him. “You were—we were supposed to wait for Sydney. Wasn’t that the plan?”

“I-I know,” he has the audacity to whine and gaze at you guiltily with puppy-dog eyes. His brows scrunch together from the effort of resisting his body’s urge to chase what it’s gotten a taste of. “I’m sorry, I…you just look so…so good. I couldn’t wait…don’t be mad.” 

You haven’t even told Sydney how this is supposed to go and your dignity is gone now that Kylar’s deep inside you! How are you supposed to instruct like this? 

You sigh a breath of deep relief when you see Sydney retrieving his own condom from his bedside drawer, he must have bought a box in preparation for today. Good. Very good. Because how were you supposed to explain that the ones Kylar gets all end up with holes in them otherwise?! 

Hesitantly, he gets settled behind Kylar—this catches your attention, just how far does his knowledge of all this go?

Noticing the curiosity behind your gaze, Sydney bashfully says: “I read about this in books. Only a little, though. Not…not a lot.”

What’s next? You also read smut fanfiction like Kylar? You’re into omegaverse and have already wondered whether you’re an alpha, beta, or omega? 

Kylar shudders despite the warmth traveling throughout him and finds his throat feeling dry even as his mouth waters. “I wish…I wish we could be like this forever.”

“Well. With how you drag me to bed every morning, afternoon, evening, and night…I’d say we’re already stuck together all the time, silly.”

He shakes his head, pouting at your remark. “It’s not enough.” 

The gentle prodding at his backside reminds him of Sydney’s presence. Impatient to start moving, he looks back over his shoulder at Sydney as if to convey, hurry up so I can start pleasing my beloved already! 

“It won’t go in…I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“Give me a minute.” There’s always an easy solution for this when it comes to Kylar, all he needs is the gesture that always calms his mind. What else can this be but an abrupt kiss?

Slowly but surely, Kylar’s body becomes pliant and loose as he’s swept away into a familiar and safe world you always provide for him. He kisses back eagerly, whining softly as he lets your tongue caress his. 

Soft fluttering touches brush against his shoulder blades like a leaf gently floating along water; Sydney’s lips are also coaxing him into relaxation.

“Hngh—” A moan spills into your mouth and the cock inside you twitches. Sydney finally manages to slowly push himself into Kylar.

“Does it hurt?” Sydney’s unable to keep himself from being concerned even with the newfound pleasure coursing through his body. He now understands the importance behind abstinence flyers—who wouldn’t want to feel like this for eternity?

“Just…ah…a little,” Kylar replies with much difficulty, brain on the verge of turning off. There’s an inevitable sting as he’s stretched out—but with the aid of the lube, fingering, and support, it’s very bearable and gives him a thrill. “But it’s okay. I-I like it. My love…are you laughing at me? D-Don’t laugh!”

Sydney thinks: Right. He’s a masochist. Then, what am I for liking that? And earlier when he bit me…it felt really good. Am I a masochist too? 

Nothing could’ve prepared Sydney—a person who has only (guiltily) masturbated a few times in his two decades of life—for the mind-numbing feeling of being joined together with someone. He tips his head down and pants, the thin layer of sweat covering him does little to cool him off.

How can something that feels this good be considered sinful? Being comfortable enough with someone to shed all your clothing around them is a beautiful thing, and so is the ability to bring someone pleasure.

This is his first time, and yet, he doesn’t feel the need to ask for any advice. How should he do this? How hard? How fast? Does he bottom out all the way? All these worries slip away and are soothed by his body’s natural instincts and the fact that you’re here—with you here, Kylar will enjoy anything.

The only thing that makes him feel dirty are the lewd squelching noises that fill the room, there is never a single pause, not with the rhythm you and him have set with Kylar. The heat on his face spreads to his ears, but he doesn’t wish to cover them to shield them from the noises.

The cross on his neck dangles with each thrust, gently tapping against his sternum as a reminder of the religion that makes up his entire being. Would he have to go to the confessional after this? How would he even say it? Dear brother/sister, forgive this initiate, for I have committed the sin of falling into lust and had an intimate night with no, not one, but two people?! One of which everyone here has told me to stay away from.

While Sydney’s internally damning himself to hell out of guilt, Kylar’s in his own version of heaven, almost sounding like he’s mumbling a heartfelt prayer when really, it’s a bunch of I love you’s directed at you. 

There’s something in Kylar’s brain that inhibits his ability to voice all his thoughts, this is a blessing at times (considering how many loose screws he has) but also a curse at other times. Whatever mechanism is behind this always melts away during sex. So yes, he pays no mind to the fact that  Sydney’s here as he lets all his infatuation with you pour out.

It doesn’t matter if you have the anatomy to get pregnant or not, he whines this out to you every single time: “You’ll look perfect with your stomach swollen…I-It’ll take this time. It—ah! It has to. I…I have the names ready.”

“For the last time. We’re…fuck…not naming them after your favorite characters! Hey—don’t bite me there!”

“If I cover you up in bites everyday…t-that arcade guy won’t try anything again.”

You’re still thinking about that?! Are those tears falling on my collarbones? Ah, he’s about to come already…

Kylar quivers like an instrument string that’s being strummed repeatedly when the two of you start moving—his lover rolling their hips up to meet his while his friend fills him up. 

“I’m…I’m, ahhh—” He wails into the crook of your neck, his thoughts diminishing to nothing, glimmers of light fill his blurry vision until it resembles the galaxy. Then, shooting stars pass through this scene, not at all unlike the ropes of cum he spills inside you.

Though you’re used to the feeling, it still knocks the breath out of you and warms your insides.

Sydney gasps loudly as Kylar tightly squeezes around him, he didn’t think it could feel any better until now. “Did you just…should I pull out?” 

“N-No! Keep going, don’t leave me.” He may be crying tears of pleasure right now, but if either of you were to pull away, those tears would quickly transform into ones of abandonment.

So Sydney does exactly that, he keeps going. The only worry he has—aside from which and how many prayers he’ll need to say later—is this: he’ll definitely need another condom soon if he’s unable to push down the feeling building up in his lower abdomen.

“I’ve been…oh, you feel so warm…t-thinking about our vows.” 

Is this dirty talk? Sydney wonders, feeling like he’s hearing a conversation between a soon-to-be wedded couple. Hello! Did his invitation get lost in the mail? He’s the only one suited to be Kylar’s best man given his…ahem, rather small social circle. Not like he can judge, though.

“You said that last time—which, mind you, was, ah! Yesterday!” 

Kylar’s absolutely thrilled, his upturned lips ghosting over your skin. “Y-You’re incredible for always…listening to everything I say.”

This is not sexy bed talk at all! But you’re so used to it at this point that your body associates such phrases with an orgasm. Despite yourself, your head tips back.

“My love…” Nothing makes him happier in bed than when he’s able to make you reach a state of back-arching bliss. He messily kisses you, swallowing all of your noises until they engulf his heart with their sweet and addictive melody.

It’s too much—it’s really too much. As another orgasm washes over you, your legs press tightly against his torso as if trying to squeeze him out of your personal space. But your Kylar is so, so insatiable; he’ll keep going until he has nothing left to give.

As you tighten up around him, he also feels something twitching inside of him. Dreamy-like moans reach his ears, Sydney is also coming. No matter how gentle Sydney is, he can’t keep his fingers from digging into Kylar’s hips as his body and rationality is swept away by pleasure.

Kylar, of course, likes this very much. Parting from your lips, his mouth momentarily hangs open in a silent moan.

What else can he do but come once again when he’s being stimulated like this? His body no longer has the energy to completely tense up like it usually does at the overstimulation, instead his limbs just twitch and shake as he releases another load, one that isn’t as thick or long-lasting as his previous two. 

“Ahhh…” Even as his eyes flutter shut and spill the tears that had welled up, even as he trembles all over, even as his bones feel like they’ve turned into jelly, even as his voice gets hoarse, he only begs for more like it’s all he knows how to do. “One more. Please. I—oh, I can take it. D-Don’t stop…”

Kylar suddenly whines at a sudden emptiness. 

“I know, I know.” Sydney’s voice cracks as he struggles to put on another condom—his hands are shaky and he has to wipe off the mess he made all over himself.

After an excruciating minute, he pushes himself back into Kylar.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Too fatigued to keep moving, he relies completely on Sydney’s movements behind him to push his hips against yours. But Sydney’s tired, too; his movements turn sluggish as he slumps over Kylar, his chest against the other’s back. 

Kylar’s moans turn into stuttered cries, then into quiet whines, and then into soft breathing as the rounds continue. His bottom half is sore, but being between two trustworthy people completely overpowers the feeling. It’s like he’s swaddled between two weighted blankets, there’s no need for him to move a single muscle.

By the end, you feel embarrassed at the mess that has trickled down from between your thighs to the sheets. Kylar, however, is too lost in the clouds to care.

Eyes downcast, his lashes glimmer from the remnant of tears that cling onto them. There’s a gentleness to his tired self, like the petal of a flower that has finally landed on a surface after being swept this way and that by the wind for an hour. He doesn’t even remember when he got put onto his back or when he had finally pulled out of you.

Kisses land on his cheeks and a warm wet towel runs over his body, cleaning him up. He’s familiar with the feel of these lips and the weight of these hands—they belong to his beloved. 

Throughout it all, he hears you and Sydney talk.

“—used to mention it back when we were in school. I think…he was under the impression that you thought less of him like everyone else.”

“I see.” A pause, followed by a sad sigh. “If I had known, then…no. I have no excuses, I…should’ve questioned it more. The fault is completely on me for not reaching out after I was the one who distanced myself from him. This is the longest I’ve seen him be so happy; thank you for taking care of him. Blessings.”

The door creaks open, and minutes pass before he hears footsteps coming up the stairs and entering the room.

“Is this okay? I know today isn’t his birthday and it’d be better on the actual day, but I just thought it’d be nice.” Something is placed on the bedside counter. “I hope this flavor’s still his favorite.”

“I think he’ll really appreciate it. Actually…how did his parents celebrate his birthday back then? I’ve always wanted to ask, but I get nervous asking about anything related to his parents sometimes.”

“They didn’t go all out for his birthdays. Even back then, he was really shy. One time they tried something flashy with a lot of guests and he…started crying. After that, they kept it simple—just a cake, gifts, and a very small circle.”

Kylar feels his hair being played with and a sweet scent wafts over to him. Blearily, he opens his eyes and finds that he’s curled up against the person he loves the most. 

After planting a kiss against his forehead, you ask, “thirsty?” 

He nods and sits up with your help, taking big gulps from the glass of water you hand him from the bedside table.

“Should I light the candles?”

“Mhm.”

Candles? It’s only when Kylar finishes hydrating himself that he turns his head to see Sydney carefully bringing a cake his way. 

You almost choke on your own spit now that you get a clear look at how the cake is decorated. You would’ve never expected something like this from Sydney, of all people. “Is that…?” 

Kylar beams with delight, eyes gleaming. “My love!” 

Yes, indeed, the cake is decorated with none other than two figures that resemble you and Kylar—almost like one of those wedding cake decorations. A happy birthday is also written in cursive, but it doesn’t draw as much attention.

“I figured he’d like it.” Sydney shyly clarifies to you. 

No matter how you look at it, this isn’t a normal birthday cake! How on earth had Sydney even gone about getting the custom made toppers? Still, if Kylar likes it, then…

All you can do is smile helplessly and ruffle his hair. “Make a wish.”

There are very few times Kylar has had the chance to make a proper wish. Aside from the birthdays he celebrated back then, he has only ever made wishes when throwing a coin into the fountain at the park—these never feel legitimate. He’s so unlucky that despite gazing at the sky at night, he has only been granted the sight of one shooting star.

He really can’t afford to waste this one. The pressure of it should weigh on him, but the choice isn’t a hard one to make.

Eyes fluttering shut, he blows on the candles.